


Compromise

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [6]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 21:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Wedding planning is stressful.





	Compromise

**Compromise**

**-**

He hears her sigh over his shoulder before he even realizes she’s standing in the doorway. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.” Irritation colors her voice, and just the little huff in her words makes his shoulders tense. 

Hiccup glances up from a half finished sketch to acknowledge her and then flicks his gaze back to his drawing. “Couldn’t if I tried, Milady. Berk is too small and I depend on you too much.”

He’s not really sure if he can actually see her frown in his peripheral or if he can simply feel it against his profile. Astrid steps into his workshop and approaches his desk, sliding her hand over his parchment to demand his attention. He clenches his jaw. “What happened to giving me your measurements so my mom can buy fabric while Trader Johan’s here?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shakes his head and feels the simmer of annoyance start in his chest. “I didn’t have time today. You saw how many meetings I had.”

Straightening, she gestures around the room. “You’re holed up in here doodling,” she scoffs, “Why couldn’t you do it before now? You  _know_  how persistent my mom is about this stuff.”

“I just got distracted, okay?” He sits back in his chair, attempting to hold onto his thin patience. “I like having five minutes to myself every now and then.”

Astrid groans and paces away, rubbing her face with her hands. “I know, I know. Running a village, achieving world peace— you’re busy. But this was for your wedding clothes, Hiccup! You said you’d make it a priority.”

He does feel a little twinge of guilt at the weariness in her nagging. But it’s accompanied by exasperation. “I’ve got  _lots_  of priorities. I’m doing what I can.” Setting down his charcoal a little harder than necessary, he rakes a hand through his hair and throws the other one in the air. “I’ll do them before bed and give them to you tomorrow morning.”

“I needed them today!”

“Well, what do you want me to do, Astrid?” His chair scrapes the floorboard as he straightens. He’s not one for raising his voice, but his nerves have been rubbed raw, and she’s scraping against every single one of them. “We’re in a forge, do you want to do the damn measurements right now?”

“I want you to  _help me_!” She presses her fisted hands into her eyes for a second before splaying them in front of her. There’s a new note to her tone, a hint of desperation. With it, he notices how her brow is crumpled, her gaze pleading. Her braid is hastily tied and her eyes darkened with exhausted shadows. “The wedding is a month away and everybody keeps asking me if you want this or that, if you’ve talked to the other chiefs, if you’ve got the sword, if you need help with the house and I don’t know! I don’t know because you’re always busy or tired or not in the mood to talk about it. I need your  _help_ , Hiccup! Can I just get like five minutes of your time?”

His fingers slowly curl around the arms of his chair as he swallows and frowns at her boots. He tightens them until the worn wood digs into the soft flesh of his palms and exhales through his nose. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. He thinks the forge’s measuring tape is hanging in the front room. 

She makes a breathy little noise— not quite a sigh but a whisper of relief or dismay. The studs of her skirt clatter when she lifts a vague hand and then drops it back to her side. “I… I’m tired too.”

Hiccup nods, wetting his lips and rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Reaching out to her, he silently beckons her forward. Astrid closes the space between them without hesitation, expression fatigued as she lowers herself into his lap. His arms curl around her waist, hers around his neck, and for a moment, they both stare into nothing and wait for their hearts to steady. The softness of her warmth is a surprisingly effective balm for his nerves.

“What are you working on?” she murmurs after a few minutes, nodding to the parchment on his desk. 

He turns it so she can see. “It’s kind of like a yoke. Trying to see if we train tidal classes to help us speed up our ships.”

“Mm.” She leans her head against his. “Can you make me a bit?”

“For Stormfly?”

“Nnh. My mom.”

Pursing his lips in thought, he picks up his charcoal once more and scribbles a picture of Mrs. Hofferson in the corner of his parchment. Then he adds a bit between her teeth and gives her angry eyebrows. His betrothed giggles, her breath tickling his hair. She brushes a kiss against his forehead. 

“Thanks.”

“I’ll get right on it.”


End file.
